


Si Tu Veux

by GrimmVertigo



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fluff, Iron Bull has a Thing for redheads, It's literally just a fluff piece, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-14 15:41:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17511338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrimmVertigo/pseuds/GrimmVertigo
Summary: Iron Bull has a Thing for redheads. Dalish Inquisitor Van'riel Lavellan fits that description perfectly, freckles and all.Just some fluffy tidbits of Bull admiring/lusting after a ginger elf. And some pretty vague smut.





	Si Tu Veux

**Author's Note:**

> Song Inspiration: [Si Tu Veux - Mumford and Sons](https://open.spotify.com/track/0xoUKn55rmc6GTs7XVgpYI?si=jECRQhB-SU-5MYuRsPHjQw)

The Iron Bull loved a lot of things. 

He loved fighting, feeling his axe cleave an enemy clean in half with a single blow. He loved fighting dragons, especially the ones that breathed fire, its oppressive heat dancing all around him and rancid, sulfuric breath permeating his senses. He loved his men, and ale, and sex, and had even grown to love the people of the Inquisition. 

He cherished very few, in comparison. 

For a long time, that list had started and ended with his men, the Bull's Chargers. 

Then he'd joined the Inquisition and met Van'riel Lavellan. 

Several months later, and that list of 'cherished companions' expanded by one. 

It was Lavellan's hair that first caught the Iron Bull's attention; a beautiful, deep, fiery red knotted into a neat braid and pinned into place on top of his head. A few wispy pieces fell loose to frame his thin face, pale skin inked dark with Dalish clan marks. When Bull's tongue slipped and he made a comment about liking redheads, Lavellan's face flushed a soft pink and he'd ducked his head, a hand coming up to tuck a few loose strands behind a pointed ear. 

Over time, Bull found himself wishing the Inquisitor would let his hair down, even just a little. The thought had shocked him the first few times, left him wondering when this had started getting personal. Any apprehension was quickly done away with when Lavellan started flirting. 

The elf didn't make it easy. He was always on just the other side of playful, suggestive enough to hint at a maybe-something but never enough to warrant any sort of impulsive action. It wasn't something Bull minded; he understood boundaries and didn't want to push Lavellan into anything, so he waited. If he pushed back a little against Lavellan's advances, then that was between them. 

There were a few times the Inquisitor came to him. When he'd learned Bull knew how to braid and plait hair, he'd sat down in front of the campfire and let his hair down from its twisted bun. It was an open invitation, one that Bull gladly accepted once Lavellan had given him a smile over his shoulder. 

Braiding Lavellan's hair became a regular thing after that. 

~*~ 

Lavellan knew from the start what the Iron Bull thought of him, though not through any words shared between them. 

It was all in the lingering gazes and sly smirks sent his way when Bull thought he didn't notice, the chiding laughter from the Chargers whenever he walked away from the group. Soon after came the way Bull would rush to his side in battle if the enemies looked to be drawing too close, and how he would be invited to share a drink after a long day. 

Lavellan also knew, after talking to Bull for only a few minutes, how much he lusted after redheads. Bull's initial comment had him shyly reaching up to touch at his own fire-kissed hair, twisted into a braid and pinned up neatly on top of his head. The Qunari had grinned something fierce before coughing into a fist and looking down in what might have been embarrassment. 

Once the flirting started in earnest, after their playful banter had been going on for a couple months, Lavellan started drawing more attention to his hair, secretly relishing in how much it distracted his Ben-Hassrath companion. He started wearing it down whenever they made camp in the evening, tugging it free from its braid to tumble down his back in crimson waves. 

When he found the Bull in his bed with a proposition, one he had every intent in agreeing to, he knew almost immediately his hair would be a fixation. When he consented, after Bull had pinned him to the wall of his chambers, Lavellan reached up to tug out the pin holding his hair up in its knot. Bull's hand caught his, tugged the pin free himself and let soft red locks tumble over Lavellan’s shoulders. 

Lavellan couldn't help the soft hum that bubbled up in his throat when Bull pressed his nose to hair and groaned. A smile stretched across his lips as large hands carded delicately through waves of fire. 

~*~ 

The air outside Skyhold is cold, the kind that bites and nips and steals breath from lungs. The wind howls around the windows of the tower the Inquisitor makes home. 

The air inside is warm in comparison, a fire roaring in the hearth cutting through the chill that seeps in through the centuries-old stonework. The fire cracks and dances, providing comfort and light to the pair in the bed across the floor. The sturdy foundations of its frame make hardly a whisper as the bodies on top move, rolling in sync with one another, limbs tangled and muscles tense. Breathy moans and gasps fill the room, interspersed with mutterings of nonsense. 

The firelight glints off of sweat-slicked skin, catching on a massive scarred back, casting shadows that make the marks look worse than they are. Smooth, pale legs circle around a thick waist; a pair of equally pale hands slide up broad shoulders, moving farther up and up until they come to grip a pair of massive horns protruding from the side of a shaved head. The sound of a particularly strong hitch of breath echoes around the room, followed closely by a deep, rumbling moan. 

The two pause, share a couple breaths, and then suddenly their positions are reversed. The thin, limber form of Van’riel Lavellan straddles the larger, hulking form of the Iron Bull, whose back is now pressed into the sheets. Large hands come up to the elf's thin waist. They keep sliding, up, up, until they're buried in the long, fiery mess that is Lavellan’s hair. He smirks, brings one of his own hands up to grasp one of Bull’s, pulling it down to his lips and pressing a kiss into a rough palm. 

Lavellan begins to roll his hips; slow, small movements at first, as if first testing the waters before deciding whether or not to jump in. His pace picks up gradually, become deeper, longer, grinding down on Bull's hips, abs flexing, thighs tensing and working to keep himself upright. 

Their hands end up linked together. They shift as Lavellan rolls his body, lips parted as soft breaths leave him in little huffs and moans. His hips falter and stutter, chest beginning to rise and fall faster. Bull suddenly sits up and wraps his arms around the elf, thick forearms practically encasing him in their grasp. The qunari’s hips move faster; a massive hand snakes between them for a moment and their lips meet in a hurried clash, matching moans of completion swallowed down with desperate kisses. 

They slow to a stop, foreheads pressed together, breaths mingling as racing hearts start to calm. One of Lavellan’s hands comes up to rest on Bull’s cheek, thumb ghosting over old scars and a line where an eye should be. A larger hand covers it as the qunari leans his head into the touch. 

Lavellan smiles, something soft and tender. "Ma vhenan," he whispers, rubbing their noses together. 

"Kadan," Bull rumbles back, a similar smile gracing his lips. 

He wraps his arms around the elf once more and falls back onto the bed, smaller form clutched to his chest. Blankets are pulled up around their naked forms. A slender hand slides out from under the covers, extinguishing the fire with a simple wave before it disappears under the furs again. 

Outside, the wind still howls; the air still bites and danger still lurks around every corner. 

Inside, the two are safely cocooned in a pile of furs, drifting off to sleep in the relative peace of the early morning.

**Author's Note:**

> [Come yell at me on Twitter.](https://www.twitter.com/grimmvertigo)
> 
> Tbh I wasn't gonna post this but then I had a friend read it over for me and he told me I should post so here we are lol
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading!~ <3


End file.
